Save Me
by ohsnaptheresa
Summary: "Who'll save me?" he whispered. A story of how even love cannot conquer all.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: This is where I basically say don't sue me for using names that J.K. Rowling implemented in her Harry Potter Series. As for the movies, I don't own those either, but I still think it's stupid that I have to put disclaimers for the HP movies considering that they based it off of the book series…ending rant now...

Oh yeah, I'm also using lyrics from Nicki Minaj's song: "Save Me"! I've changed around some lyrics to suit the plotline of this story.

Warnings: THIS IS A NON-CON!

Rating: Adult (MA)

Title: Save Me

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

No one knew where she was.

The media frenzy was outrageous. Headlines that should have screamed, "Hermione Granger: VANISHED," instead screamed "VOLDEMORT VANQUISHED," with pictures depicting two young men wearing uniforms associated with the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The pictures were in black and white, but the paleness of their faces was noticeable against the stark contrast of their somber uniforms. Dark splotches could be seen under their eyes, and if one was to view these pictures in color, the dark splotches would have been in the most alarming shades of purple. If one was to view the boys face to face, one would also notice the lines of strain around the corners of their mouths and the horrific hollow stares that these boys displayed whenever the name of the vanished person was mentioned.

However, too many people were celebrating the death of the most evil man in the magical community to fully comprehend the impact of a missing person to these young men. "The Dark Lord", also referred to as "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," or by the braver folk as "Voldemort," was recently killed in battle. Tales of the heroic deeds of Harry Potter were rampant within the magical community. Unfortunately, the missing person was just not another soul potentially lost in the heated battle, but rather an important member of the magical community, and a third responsible for the efforts made against the rise of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Many wizards and witches who had known this person made numerous efforts to make the circumstances known: Hermione Granger, student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor prefect, seventh year female, the smartest witch of her generation, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, founder of Dumbledore's Army, best friend of Harry Potter, and fiancé to Ronald Weasley, was missing.

Unfortunately, their efforts were in vain: one week turned into two, two weeks turned into three, three weeks turned into a month, one month turned into four, four months turned into a year, a year turned into two, until finally, Hermione Granger, once the brightest witch of her generation and the brightest star in Ronald Weasley's eyes, was deemed dead. The pictures of Hermione Granger, as plastered all over Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and parts of Knockturn Alley by the Order of the Phoenix depicted an image of a face that held darkly arched eyebrows set over large brown eyes. Occasionally, within the picture, the eyes themselves would blink, causing shadows to flare briefly across her face. These shadows were caused by the long lashes that naturally curled up, providing a look that even mascara couldn't accomplish. Offsetting these eyes were high cheekbones softened by slightly plump, rosy cheeks. These cheekbones held enough roundness to attest to the young age of the girl, which made the situation of finding the missing girl so much more nerve-racking.

The once smiling pictures of this girl, the ones that used to cover every inch of the magical community, eventually began to disappear. As the months moved on and the magical community rebuilt themselves, the significance of the missing girl became an unfortunate circumstance that had come out of the Final Battle. That is why it came to a surprise, when two years after the first picture was posted; a letter arrived in the home of a Misters Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The letter was written on a crème colored parchment that had most likely seen better times; however, that was not the cause for concern. The content within the letter, which would have been scoffed at by other young men of twenty years, set such a terrifying chill throughout the bodies of a Misters H. Potter and R. Weasley, the likes of which they had never experienced until the Final Battle, that they immediately dropped the parchment as if they were burned. As they hastily made floo calls to Order members, a certain Mrs. Ginevra Potter picked up the parchment, only to give a horrified whisper, repeating the content of the letter:

_Save Me_.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**- I flew for miles just to find you and find myself.

He didn't know where she was.

The seventh years were in frenzy. Whispers gained momentum until it felt like students were screaming, "Hermione Granger: VANISHED!" There were moments when people stopped in the hallways to stare at him; this young man wearing a uniform associated with the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The natural paleness of his face was noticeable against the dark green robes he wore on a daily basis. He was tall for a seventh year and devastatingly handsome. Every physical feature on his person was said to have been personally blessed to him by fairies. He had hands that held large palms with long fingers; fingers which were often seen gracefully performing powerful spells and stirring difficult potions. Students were constantly talking about how handsome he was. _The perfect example of a male_, they would rave.

His skin was a pale shade of cream, with smoothness to its texture comparable to pearls. His hair fell across his forehead in shades of midnight blue to raven black, which for the most part, was straight and cut short. However, it had enough waves in it that it lent him the look of a man who just had a lover run her hands through his locks. His face was aristocratic in nature, with a rounded chin that accented his jaw line, making it more refined. Whenever he walked, his body moved sensually, with such grace it imitated the walk of a panther. His body was lithe, with broad shoulders, a long torso, and even longer legs. His eyes, shockingly, were the deepest shade of emerald green. Yet, his eyes were cold; unresponsive. They remained emotionless; however, like lightening that flashed during a storm, his eyes would flash brightly whenever he was in her presence.

Not that she noticed. Hermione Granger never gave him any clue as to whether she noticed anything about him or not. He would not have given her any notice either, that is, if she hadn't looked at him with her dark brown eyes; eyes that seared through his very soul and left him feeling as if she knew everything about him. With that one look, Hermione Granger left him feeling as if he had lost all the air in his lungs, as if he was placed under an _Imperio _and left without any instruction, as if he would never be able to live in complete confidence ever again. With that one look, Hermione Granger, the mousy girl who had transferred into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in their last and final year, left Tom Marvolo Riddle feeling shaken, and for the first time, frightened out of his very being.

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><p>It was during moments like these that bright flashes of red could be seen flaring through his eyes, and if one was to stare into his eyes long enough, the bright flashes of red would have turned into a deep red, the color of unicorn blood the moment before it reacted with the air and turned into the color silver. If one was to look directly into this boy's face, one would also notice the grim lines around the corners of his mouth, and terrifying stare that this boy displayed whenever the name "Hermione Granger" was mentioned. It was during moments like these, moments where he recalled their initial meeting, that he would grow even quieter than was normal for his self. It was moments like that, that drove him to take his broom and fly around Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and dreading the moment, as she took off her clothing and readied herself for bed. It was during his flights, the flights where he hoped and feared of finding her that he would recall memories of finally taking action against Hermione Granger…<p>

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><p><em>Her lips were unresponsive to his kisses, but he drank from her lips like a man dying. He drew back a little and gently traced a line down her cheek with his fingers. Her eyes were pools of darkness that held the look of fear. Tenderly he kissed her again; he licked her neck, nuzzling his way into her hair, breathing in her scent. He bit her neck, making her quake with fear…<em>

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><p>He swore out load at the memories shooting through his mind. He was flying, hoping to find her, knowing that it would be just like last night, the night before, the weeks before, where he kept searching for her, only to become lost in his own memories. The memories of when he watched her as she traversed the hallways late at night. The memories of when he watched her as she sobbed in the Astronomy Tower. The memories of when he watched her as she screamed into her knees as she lay curled in the Owlery. The memories of her tears and her screams were always in the forefront of his mind…<p>

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><p><em>He roughly unbuttoned her blouse, causing buttons to fly across the room as she stiffened and struggled against his body. He snatched the catch on her bra, breaking the clasp, and again with her school skirt, staring with bright eyes because, at last, she was nude before him. He stared in amazement as her body broke out in goose bumps, chilled by the winter winds as it blew through her broken bedroom window. He stared at her body as it remained stiff against his. He kept on staring at her because he couldn't stop staring. He paused, filling his memory with the sight of her deliciously nude body...<em>

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><p>He was obsessed.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** - All these screams; all these voices in my head…

She didn't know where she was.

Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her generation, was lost. Every time she tried to think of how to get back to Hogwarts, her brain would send shooting fissures of pain throughout her head, pain so great that it immobilized her for a few minutes while she caught her breath.

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><p><em>Hermione forced herself to keep her eyes glued to her desk, covered in books and parchment, as she concentrated on doing her homework. She felt self-conscious, having Tom Riddle, the Head Boy and future Dark Lord, sitting at the other end of her desk, watching her doing her work. She couldn't tell him to go away, no matter how much she wanted to. She hadn't said a word to him, not since she "enrolled" in Hogwarts as a "new student," not since she made eye contact with him after the end of her first full week of school.<em>

_On the outside she appeared not to be noticing him, continuing to write down the uses of Mandrakes, even though she had already finished that particular assignment within the first hour of getting it. On the inside, she panicked. Her nerves felt as if they were pulled taunt, and the hair on the back of her neck was raised. His presence took up so much space at the end of the table that the Hogwarts Library seemed too small with him in it. The room was filling up with his energy; each time she took a breath, she felt his power cackle as it laced with the air._

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><p>She looked down at herself each time this happened, taking note of the long dark robes she wore; robes that most definitely did not belong to Gryffindor, let alone a <em>female<em> Gryffindor. The dark black robes had most definitely been tailored to the male body. Its length dragged across the forest floor, disrupting dead leaves and dirt while picking up debris along the dark emerald green hem. The length of the fabric making up the sleeves hung a full eight inches past the tips of her fingers. In confusion, she lifted up her arms, eyes widening as the sleeves fell back to reveal the dark purple lines that crisscrossed her wrists. Lines that told her, even if her memory couldn't, that she had been held captive at some point recently.

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><p><em>Without any warning, Tom shoved the chair back and stalked towards her, yanking her chair back just before he pounced on her. He slung her body against the bookshelves behind his shoulders; her head flung back so hard, the books on the opposite side of the shelves tumbled over. She felt his hard body pressing to hers, his lips devouring her. She could taste him in her mouth; a dark, bitter taste that reminded her faintly of the dark future ahead.<em>

_**Why wouldn't he leave her alone? **__She couldn't shake him off of her; her struggles intensified, her mind screaming at her that he would want not just her body, but her soul as well._

"_Stop, please!"_

_Rearing up against his body, Hermione tried to break free of Tom's hold, thrusting her face to the side to avoid his mouth. Chest heaving, eyes closed, she felt the wetness of her tears splatter against her cheeks and smear across the dark robes covering his chest. When Tom only chuckled, she kept her eyes shut, feeling the fear and the shame rise inside her heart as she felt him watch her tears gather against her shut eyes. Letting herself sag against the front of his chest, she didn't open her eyes until she felt the hold he had on her had slipped, enough for her to squirm out of his arms. Seizing her chance, Hermione shoved past him, hard enough for her to hear his large body slam against the edge of the desk she had originally been working on._

_Sprinting out of the library, she ran down the hall to where she hoped to find sanctuary, praying to have bought enough time to hide herself behind closed doors before Tom could find her. __**There!**_

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><p>As Hermione continued to stumble through the forest, pain lancing behind her eyes, she also noticed that it was normal. Well, as normal as a forest could be. The trees were tall, yet barren of any foliage. The moonlight lit up the entire area around her, illuminating her in a circle of silver threads that gave her an ethereal image. Her hair sprang out of her head with illustrious curls that held shades of brown, gold, and red. Her face, lifted towards the moonlight, was a pale ivory that matched the snow on the ground. Her eyes, which remained closed in deep concentration, was a dark brown that was accented by arched delicate brows and surrounded by luscious eyelashes. Cheekbones, sitting high against the middle of her face, were covered by smooth plump cheeks that suggested the age of the young girl. Although of legal age, her skin glowed with the vibrancy that only the youth was gifted with.<p>

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><p><em>His hand blocked the classroom door before she could slam it shut. Backing away from him, Hermione tried to put some distance between them. Rubbing his hip, Tom stalked her around the room, flinging desks and chairs out of his way as if they were flies.<em>

"_Now, that wasn't very nice."_

_Hermione continued to walk backwards until her back came up against the wall. Terrified, Hermione watched as Tom quickly caged her in, placing his large hands on either side of her head. __**Oh Merlin, he could move fast**__. One minute, she was watching him walking across the room towards her, and the next, he had her trapped. Hermione inhaled deeply, keeping her eyes on his broad chest. She watched as he took a step closer, fearful, as he brought their bodies together where she felt every inch of him pressing against her._

_Already fully aroused, she felt his erection as he pushed his hips into hers, showing her how much he wanted her, how easy he could take her and no one would ever know._

"_I think you should make it up to me, don't you?"_

_Hermione closed her eyes as she felt his hand stroke her face. When he lowered his head to claim her lips, she gently shoved his hand away. Before she could struggle, Tom captured her lips and kissed her soundly. He seemed to be savoring the taste of her, almost as if he had to make it last, as if he had to imprint his memory of himself into her body_.

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><p>Subconsciously, Hermione's fingers grazed her lips; her cheeks were flushed, not by a youthful glow, but by the cold winter air that bit against her cheeks and chilled her hands. The robes kept her warm, with the inside covered in a thick layer of soft fur that would have surprised her if she was in her right mind to think about it. Shuddering, Hermione slowly sank to the ground, weakened by the pain shooting through her head and, from her guess, the lack of energy to burn. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, but from the feel of her body, whoever had held her captive fed her very well. As she laid her head against the tree, sitting in the middle of the moonlight, Hermione felt herself falling asleep; her eyes could not remain open, no matter how hard she tried. Whimpering, her final thought, before she lost consciousness and entered the dream world, was a silent scream,<p>

"_Tom_"


	4. Chapter 3

AN: I noticed that if you click on the **½** symbol at the top of the right hand side (located above the "previous/next chapter" button), the page will alter itself to fit nicely within your screen. I personally like reading the stories this way and would like to recommend to all my readers to do the same! I personally feel it makes my stories easier to read considering I use _italicized words_ to represent memories and **bolded words** to represent thoughts. By making the format of the page smaller, paragraphs are more easily noticeable and easier on the eyes! Happy reading, everyone!

SCENES OF INAPPROPRIATENESS COMING UP!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong> - You gave me strength; gave me hope for a lifetime.

Hermione was frightened. Frightened, and utterly spent.

She felt the energy inside of her wane away as she sat against the trunk of the tree. She had woken up only minutes before, startled by a cracking sound that had rang through the quiet forest, somewhere to her left. She knew she fell asleep, she knew because the moonlight that had originally bathed her in its effervescent glow had moved, leaving her sitting in the darkness, surrounded by nothing but snow and dead leaves. As she leaned forward, slowly easing her hands onto the snow, Hermione snapped her head up when she heard movement coming from in front of her. Breathing heavily, she tried to muffle her wheezing as they left her mouth. The movement she heard continued towards her, coming in from the left side. Tilting her head, she eyed the area in front of her, wary because the sound from the movement had become discernable; footsteps.

Staying still, Hermione allowed her eyes to adjust to the inky darkness that encompassed her entire vision. Whoever was walking towards her definitely had better vision than she did because the footsteps did not once falter in its movement. Slinking away, Hermione laid low and inched backwards away from the approaching figure. From the faint outline, she could see that whoever was walking towards her spot was a man. His tall figure was familiar to her; she felt as if she recognized the movement of this man's walk. Concentrating, Hermione felt the tingling in the back of her neck that signaled to her another painful spasm. As her breath continued puffing out in front of her face, she kept her eyes on the figure while racking her brain for clues, eyes tearing as the painful spasms became more unavoidable.

Pain, it was so great it nearly blinded her in a vision of white. Spots of white appeared in front of her eyes as her concentration faltered under the strain of the spasms. Breathing heavily, she stilled as the pain receded. Horrified, she blinked back her tears as she looked down at her hands. To her utter dismay, as she found her vision returning, she felt her hands touching something hard and warm. Keeping her eyes on her hands, noting the ivory glow of her skin, she unclenched her fingers, releasing the fabric that covered what clearly was a man's chest. Slowly, Hermione raised her head, eyes widening as she took in the pale glow of the man's neck, the defined jaw line, the small smile that graced pale pink lips. Staring at the small smile, Hermione felt soft hands envelope the side of her face, brushing back her hair, stroking down her cheek to rest at her chin. Closing her eyes, Hermione felt her chin being raised as a warm whisper puffed against her lips,

"Hello, love."

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><p>Tom's eyes slid over Hermione's upturned face, wondering what had motivated him to tug her into his embrace after he heard her painful whimper. He had been watching her in the darkness of the forest, observing with amusement as she backed away from him. Like a predator, he stalked her, walking steadily and calmly towards his prey. He could see better than she could due to his affinity with the darkness, but he felt no great joy out of watching her back away from him. <strong>Always running away<strong>, he thought. He was tempted to hurt her as he watched, anger racing through his mind, eyes flashing a dark red before calming back to emerald green. **How dare she run away**; if he hadn't felt the pull in his head that signaled her calling out for him hours before, he would have cursed her the moment he apparated into the forest, pinpointing her location after a quick sweep of the area around him.

Now that was something he tried to avoid; hurting her too much. Glancing at her upturned face in his hands, he took note of how her cheeks were flushed from the icy chill, how her eyes were shut to avoid looking at him. His whispered greeting to her remained unanswered and his smile deepened as he took note of how she had closed her eyes before meeting his gaze. In awe, as he always was as he looked at her, Tom stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning closer to her face so that his breath mingled with her heavy breathing. Fascinated, he watched as his breath made small clouds that entered her mouth every time she inhaled. Leaning even closer, Tom licked his lips and his cheek dimpled a smirk graced his face. **Delicious**, he thought, as his tongue danced across his lips and grazed hers. So close to her face, Tom watched in delight as Hermione opened her eyes and looked right into his. Her dark brown eyes locked right into his, and as it happened, he knew he was lost.

Leaning forward, he maintained eye contact as he kissed her, tasting her instant response, those amazing lips of hers stiffening beneath him before softening. Her soft fingers, stroking over the skin on the back of his hands, made him shudder in ecstasy. Pulling away, he picked her up as he stood, making a soft clicking noise as he looked around the forest.

"Really, you couldn't have picked a worse spot to escape from me."

With that said, he looked down at her clenched in his arms, his facial features softening as he took in her frightened expression; her wide eyes and parted lips reminded him of the first time he took made eye contact with her. This time, he broke eye contact away from her, only long enough to apparate back to his home, where he made note to teach her not to run away from him while he was working. It was difficult, staging his own death, making the magical world believe he had been defeated. If he hadn't figured out who Hermione Granger was, and what she would come to mean to him, he would have killed her the first time he made eye contact with her in his seventh year. Before he could let his mind wander back to his work, he looked down at Hermione. Sighing, he placed her on the edge of his bed, noting how she had nabbed his cloak before disappearing out of his home. A part of him twisted in fear as he fought against thinking about what would have happened to her if she hadn't grabbed his robes; apparently, keeping her in perpetual nudity did nothing to deter her from thinking about escaping into the winter abyss outside.

Stripping her out of his thick robes, Tom made a noise of appreciation, the low sound as seductive as the memory of the feeling of her fingers on his skin. Lying naked on his bed, Hermione looked utterly delectable. Then, her fingers moved up to graze his face and he changed his mind. Nothing, absolutely nothing, beat the feeling of her skin. He lowered himself down to kiss her, her mouth soft and sweetly clinging to his. He like how she was showing him what she wanted from him; by the movement of her lips, of her body brushing against him. Completely aroused, Tom tugged her head between his hands, taking control of the kiss, devouring her mouth like a man dying.

His fingers whispered across her breast. He felt her stiffen slightly as she lay under him, and he was thinking about how tight she would feel around him as he stared into her eyes, noting the glow of her skin in contrast to the darkness of his bedding. How good he'd feel buried deep inside her. How loud he could make her cry out as he plunged into her over and over. Tom groaned, frustrated with his own desperation, yet aroused all the same. Pulling away from her, he stood and tugged his shirt off, then his pants. He took note of how she gazed at him, laying there across his bed. Her eyes were wide on her face, her gaze burning across his skin as he uncovered his body. His movements showed that he was angry and impatient; impatient with himself and with his uncontrollable desire for her.

Once nude, he stalked back over to Hermione's delectably sprawled body. He heard her whimper as his weight came down on her. Whether in fear or desire, he didn't care, all he wanted was her. His arms pulled her tighter to him, his legs parting her own to cradle him, a straddling position that brought her moist heat closer to him, making his whole body pulse with unbridled desire.

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><p>Hermione gasped as his weight pressed down against her body. She hated the way he felt; his hard muscles holding her down, his strength holding her against him. She hated the way his skin felt as it caressed her, slicked with his sweat and hot with his body heat. She hated the possessiveness of his kisses, the dominance of his touch; the proof that he would always have her. She gazed at the ceiling, crying internally as he kissed her, his lips mating fiercely to her own soft lips. Then her hands, which had been lying placidly against her sides, were moved up by his hands at her wrist. He laid her arms across his broad shoulders, the palms of his hands coming up to brace her shoulders, curling into her soft shoulders and warm skin there. She tried to push him over, squirming under him. Even when she knew it was futile onto him, she still fought him; he made it impossible with her legs straddling his body.<p>

"Tsk, now you behave, love."

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><p>Tom leaned down and lightly bit her nipple, grinning against her skin when he heard her gasp, her body jerking under his. He lapped at her skin, soothing away the hint of pain he had given her. He watched her nipple puckered, the nude pink color darkening as her body reacted to his attention to her breasts. His hand glided down over her body, cupping the back of her spine, directing her chest to his face. He lifted his head, maintaining eye contact with her, and captured her nipple in his mouth, drawing on her hard. He noted with pleasure as desire shot through her eyes, feeling it as it laid dripping between her thighs. With deliberate intensity, he grounded his erection against her heat, his thick hard shaft slipping between her wet lips, rubbing right where he wanted to touch the most.<p>

She stiffened slightly, still straining against his arms. Watching her, eyes turning emerald green to red, he moved, sliding her hips back and forth against his like she was riding him in a slow, delicious canter. Hermione's eyes closed and her breath escaped her in shallow shudders. He continued his movement, their flesh growing slicker from the heat and their mutual arousal. He watched in smug awe as Hermione's own breath grew harsher, more broken as her desire rose, nearly taking her over.

A small sob escaped her lips as her head fell back, her orgasm right there, right on the edge of spilling over. As her arms tightened around his neck, Tom broke her hold, his hands gripping her hips. He lifted her, flipping them over so now she lay straddling him. Tom roughly shoved her down on him, filling her to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

A loud cry surrounded them, and Tom was only vaguely aware that it was Hermione's voice crying out. She was too overwhelmed, too encompassed in her own release. Tom grinned as her bodied shuddered, convulsing on top of him; nothing existed for Tom except for his strength filling her and her own pulsating bliss. Gradually, Tom watched as reality descended back to her, smirking at her as he watched her realize she was draped over him, her body a puddle of sated release. His hands still held her hips, loosely now, stroking her skin and smearing the sweat that lightly shimmered against her back. Finally, after a few more minutes, her breath slowed enough to return to normal. Tom chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then he stretched, turning her over so that now he lay across her body, savoring her body under him.

Hermione raised her head, her eyes wide, and then she wiggled her hips, whimpering when he held her hip tighter. He was rock hard, still buried inside her. He laughed.

"Not yet. Believe me; I am not done with you."

He jerked his hips hard, thrusting inside her, smiling as she cried out.


End file.
